


Eventual Freedom

by Adsagsona



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:58:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adsagsona/pseuds/Adsagsona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nasir is a gift from his Dominus to Quintus Batiatus. His days he spends in the villa, but his nights he spends at the ludus, where he meets the gladiators. There he hears the first whispers of freedom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The house of Quintus Lentullus Batiatus was thriving. He had both the former and new champion of Capua under his roof, but his aim was much much higher. The Senate, Rome… the world was too small for him.   
For that goals he had purchased a few new soon-to-be gladiators who would fight for him on the sands of the arena. And, beloved wife Lucreatia had declared that there would be a feast to celebrate their new status in life.   
Quintus had agreed, albeit with some none too gentle cursing on his part.

On this evening he stood waiting at the door of his House, for the guests to arrive. Quintus was slightly nervous, although he did not show it. A lot of important men and women would step over his treshhold tonight and the House of Batiatus would make this a night one would not forget. His gladiators would stand upon the sands of the ludus, granting a show for his guests.

“Good Quintus, how lovely to see you.” An older man said to him. Quintus did not know the man, but he figured that it was an acquaintance of his father. As Lucreatia whipped by and whispered “Marcus” into his ear, he remembered.

“Marcus, welcome into my humble home.” Quintus bared his teeth in a polite smile and only then noticed the slight form of a house slave behind his master. Since there had been requested to not bring any slaves, since the house would already be full enough, Quintus was slightly aggravated by the denial of his request.

“You brought your slave.” Quintus stated.

“Ah yes, a lovely sight, is it not?” Marcus answered the statement with a question and gestured for the young man to come forward. “I heeded request, good Quintus, but I would offer you the boy as a gift. A very well brought up slave.”

“I have no need for…” Quintus began to say as Lucreatia approached, having overheard the last part of the conversation.

“Kind gifts you bring to our house.” She responded as she looked the young man over. No material for a gladiator, but perhaps a good house slave. “At what purpose did he serve you?” Lucreatia asked Marcus.

“My personal slave and a very fine one indeed. But preference lies elsewhere now and he would be a great asset to your house.” Marcus revealed as Lucreatia nodded. “I would have such great gift seen to properly. He will become one of my own slaves. Thank you, Marcus.” 

With that Lucreatia gestured for Naevia to come forth. “Bring him to the ludus and warn Oenomaus that a new house slave has arrived. Then tend to duties.”

Naevia nodded and gestured for the young man to follow her as he obediently did. “How are you called?” Naevia asked him as they went down the stairs to the ludus. 

“Tiberius.” The young man answered softly.

“Tiberius, you are to sleep with the men in the ludus. Domina will summon you tomorrow morning. Most men are gone now to entertain the guests but Oenomaus will come back soon.”   
With that she opened up the door to the Ludus, let Tiberius in and shut the door firmly behind him, turning the key in the lock.

“Good luck, Tiberius.” She whispered with a small smile before she quickly made her way upstairs. 

Tiberius looked around in the near dark to see almost nothing but a few men sitting or laying down in the ludus. By their built he could see most of them were those fierce gladiators his master had told him about many times. As he did not know what was expected of him, he just sat down somewhere where he would not be a nuisance to anyone.

“Who is that?” Tiberius heard the whisper on the other side of the room.

“I do not know.” The answer came in an equal whisper.

“Gods, I hope he’s not another one of those fucking Gauls.” The first voice whispered again.

“Hold tongue. He’s not a gladiator.” The other answered. “We have to go upstairs, Duro.”

Tiberius heard two pair of feet hurry up the stairs and was alone, but not for long.  
A black man entered the ludus, clad in a sort of armour which Tiberius had not seen before. Scars were visible on his face and body, but the look in his eye was one of certitude.

“Tiberius.” The man stated, not asked. It seemed to be easy to spot him.

“Yes.” Tiberius answered as he stood and gave a slight nod to the man, as it seemed he would have to answer to him as well.

“I am Oenomaus, Doctore of this House. You are to sleep in the ludus, so I gather. Do you know of your other duties?”

“Not yet, Doctore.” Tiberius answered quietly.

Before he could say something else, Oenomaus sat next to him and looked him in the eye. “Do not run, you will be caught. Do not fight, you will be killed. And be careful, the men can be… slow of understanding.” With that Doctore stood and gestured for Tiberius to follow him. A very small room, large enough for a bedroll and a sheet covering the doorway, was revealed to him.

“To call your own.” Doctore stated simply and walked away. Tiberius, not used to doing nothing, just sat there, waiting for others to return.

A few hours afterwards the gladiators returned from the villa, all were in quite good spirits as they got to drink as well, a gift from their master. Tiberius had gone to the main room of the ludus, where the men resided. Most of them were very loud, shouting at each other, drinking wine by amfora instead of a cup. What animals. He tried to make himself smaller and smaller.

“Hey little man, you are the one from earlier, are you not?” 

Fuck. Discovered. Tiberius looked up to see a giant of a man standing in front of him, blocking whatever light was left. He just noticed the flashing of a smile on the man’s face, before he saw someone else standing next to him.

“That’s him. Slender arms and legs, can be no other.” Duro said.  
“I do believe he has no tongue. Can you speak, little man?” The other man asked him again and it did seem like speech had lost Tiberius.

“Agron, stop it!” Another shouted from the other end of the ludus and Agron looked up in annoyance before stepping back from Tiberius.

“No harm intended, Spartacus, just friendly words.” Agron smiled as he took another look at Tiberius and wandered away, Duro at his side. Tiberius sighed in relief, although perhaps not meaning to do so, Agron was very intimidating.

The next morning was business as usual in the ludus. The men woke up for their breakfast and morning training. Tiberius, not having been called upon, could look at them better now in the morning light. He found the man they called Spartacus, the champion, practicing with two swords in stead of one, like one of the older champions, Gannicus. He had heard that name before, but the man himself was not staying in the ludus.

The two brothers, Agron and Duro, seemed to always be together. They were now sparring, Agron easily besting his younger brother again and again. Tiberius almost felt sorry for the younger man, but then Agron looked up towards Tiberius and flashed a smile. Tiberius quickly looked towards the ground.

“Be careful with these men. They’re dogs.” A new voice, a strange voice, spoke to Tiberius in his old native language, one he scarcely understood. Yet, it was familiar and he smiled at the man now standing beside him. He did not spot the sour look on Agron’s face when he looked up again.

“Apologies. Native tongue sounds foreign to me now.” Tiberius said quietly.

“Apologies.” The man answered now in the common tongue. “I should have realised. If you need anything, from in this ludus or outside, remember my name. Ashur.” The man said with a warm smile before turning away from Tiberius and walking towards Spartacus. The discussion between the two men seemed vivid and both men were angry. 

Tiberius was then called to the main house where his Dominus Quintus waited for him. Tiberius stood at a respectable distance and lowered his head for his Dominus, which Quintus liked immensely. The boy had manners.

“What are you called, boy?” Quintus asked.

“Tiberius.” Tiberius answered softly.

“What were your duties at your old House, Tiberius?”

“I was a body slave, Dominus.” Tiberius answered again.

Quintus raised an eyebrow. He had not expected Marcus to give his body slave away. The man probably had grown tired of his slave and wanted him out of the way. 

“As I require not such a service… what can you do for me, other than to eat my food and drink my wine?” Quintus grumbled under his breath. It was clear he could not send Tiberius away without questioning by Marcus.

Tiberius tried to form words, but failed to do so. After taking a deep breath, he tried again.  
“I was more than body slave, Dominus. I was his personal slave and attended to my Dominus in all things. I went with him to market, visits, took care of him…” 

Quintus raised his hand to say that he had heard enough. Perhaps he could use the slave in that manner, he wondered. Ashur had grown too eager to handle his affairs and Quintus would give him a reason to doubt his position.

“Personal slave then. You can start by preparing food, I would have lunch.” Quintus waved his hand towards where Tiberius suspected the kitchen. Tiberius bowed deeply and made his way towards the cook who would tell him what to serve.

Tiberius merely nodded and waited. 

So began the life of Tiberius at the house of Batiatus.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nasir gets in trouble, Agron saves the day.

The days passed by for Tiberius without much concern. His duties were easy and Quintus was not a very demanding Dominus, like his former one. Yet in the ludus Tiberius was not at ease, unwanted attention and looks strayed his way too much. Since he could count no one as friend, he dined alone and slept in his cell in a quiet corner of the ludus.

After his duties, long after the gladiators had finished their training, Tiberius went out towards the practice yard and sat on the wooden benches to eat his food. Not many lingered there, mostly they were back in the ludus, drinking, playing games or finding solace in each other. Spartacus having his own small room, often resided there.

Tiberius was just about to take a bite, when a shadow loomed over him. Agron stood at the other side of the table, his brother by his side as always. 

“May we sit?” Agron asked, quite polite for his doing. Tiberius nodded, not wanting to be on Agron’s bad side, and the two of them sat down, looking at Tiberius oddly.

“What is it?” Tiberius asked and Duro burst out laughing, earning a jab in the ribs.

“Auch, why did you do that? You spoke true, Agron, he has a tongue.” Duro laughed.

Agron flicked the back of Duro’s head and shook his own. “Some days I wish I didn’t have a brother, but I would miss him too much.” Agron said with a smile as Duro scoffed at him and made his way inside. “Do you have a brother?” He then asked Tiberius.

“I did, once.” Tiberius sadly smiled.

“Apologies, I did not mean to offend.” Agron replied softly. Tiberius raised his head. It was uncommon for Agron to be so gentle and he feared for what might follow. But Agron kept his hands to himself, they laid out on the table quietly, where he otherwise always seemed to be fidgeting.

“You didn’t. Why is it you sit with me, Agron?” Tiberius ventured to ask.

“I would have your name, little man.” Agron smiled at this as Tiberius’ eyes became small slits. “Do not call me that again.” He hissed, the gladatior a little surprised by his words, but still Agron waited for his answer.

“Tiberius.” Was the answer.

“Not what you are called by Roman shits… your name.” Agron insisted as he looked upon Tiberius.

“Nasir. My brother called me Nasir.” Tiberius answered.

Agron nodded and stood, walking back into the ludus and leaving a stunned Nasir behind. He did not know what the German gladiator was up to, but perhaps he would gain a friend. Hours later, when he was quite sure most of the gladiators were asleep, he slipped into his room and tried to sleep himself.

Early the next morning he had to help prepare for another party at the House of Batiatus. Everyone wanted to know Quintus now and he would announce who would fight in the new games at the arena of Capua. Silently Nasir hoped Agron would not be chosen.

“Find Spartacus.” Quintus commanded and so Nasir did, searching throughout the ludus but not finding the gladiator. It was then Ludin found him. A big man, a lesser gladiator with a fondness of young boys, closed in on Nasir. 

“Alone at last, young Tiberius.” The man proclaimed with a grin as he took steps forward, pressing Nasir against a wall.

“I am to find Spartacus.” Nasir said as he tried to get away to no avail.

“Spartacus is upstairs, with Dominus. Nobody will miss you.” The words hit home and Nasir closed his eyes to the truth in them. What he then did no see was Agron who had been practicing in the yard, had gone into the ludus after he did not see Nasir emerge from it.

As he found Ludin and Nasir together, he gritted teeth and went to turn away, feeling betrayed by Nasir, when he spotted Nasir’s face. 

“Your attention goes unwanted, Ludin.” Agron made his presence known, but Ludin would not stop, kissing Nasir and grabbing for his cock.  
Agron’s reaction was one of rage. He barked at Ludin to let go, laid hand upon his shoulders and pulled him from Nasir. Somewhat taken aback, Ludin moved to attack Agron, only to have Agron’s fist planted midst of his face.  
Ludin held a hand to his bleeding nose and glared at Agron.

“Apologies, I did not know he was yours.” He muttered before leaving.

Agron waited until Ludin was gone, before turning to Nasir. The young man stood still against the wall, looking at Agron with sadness in his eyes.

“Gratitude.” He whispered.

“Nasir.” The name was said ever so gently as Agron approached, cupping Nasir’s face in his large hands.

“Are you hurt?” Agron asked quietly, so the others wouldn’t hear. He would be punished for missing training, but he did not care. When a small bruise began to appear on Nasir’s jawline, Agron gritted his teeth, a murderous light appeared in his eyes. Nasir quickly held his hand on Agron’s forearm and shook his head.

“Not of import. I still live, the pain is nothing.” He gently squeezed Agron’s arm so that he would let go. “Gratitude. You can claim reward.”

Agron stepped back, a strange look in his eyes.

“I do not wish to claim reward, I merely wish to see friend safe from harm.” Agron responded as he stepped away from Nasir, back towards the practice ground. Nasir quickly turned back to duty and his Dominus, who gave him a pointed look, but did not punish him for being away so long.

It was only late in the evening when Nasir returned to the ludus and heard from Duro about the punishment Agron had received for not being at training that afternoon. Nasir, knowing that this was his fault, asked Duro where his brother was. 

“Gone to Medicus.” Duro said as he pointed.

For a moment Nasir hesitated but then he walked towards Medicus where he found Agron. Agron’s back was towards his and he saw the lashmarks of the whip on his back. The German had his eyes squeezed shut at the pain, but no complaint came from his lips. He had accepted punishment without question, without hesitation. Nasir gasped softly at the wounds, revealing himself to Agron.

“Go, leave me be.” Agron hissed between his teeth, muscles tense from the pain in his back.

“No, not before wounds are tended to.” Nasir replied strongly, earning a glare from Agron.

“I would see debt repayed and wounds healed.” Nasir now said soflty as he approached Agron.   
Medicus returned with the ointment he had prepared for Agron’s wounds and was not really surprised to find Nasir there. 

“Are you to tend to his wounds?” Medicus asked Nasir, since it would be easier for him to have Agron tended to by somebody else.

“Yes.” Nasir replied.

All throughout the conversation Agron had remained silent and now walked after Nasir back into the main room of the ludus. There were a few lewd cries, Spartacus concernedly asked how Agron faired and Duro looking angry towards Nasir. 

“Come.” Nasir said as he walked onward towards towards his room. He folded out his blanket and gestured for Agron to lay down on his stomach.   
Agron looked from Nasir to the blanket, sighed and laid down, his arms supporting his head.

“I would never have you punished for kind act.” Nasir said softly as he began to apply to ointment to Agron’s wounds, elicting from the large man a soft sigh of contentment. 

“In this world you do not act kindly.” Agron replied harshly.

“Yet you did. I will not forget.” Nasir said as he finished the treatment, set the ointment aside and brushed over Agron’s shoulders. Gathering courage his hand travelled further down Agron’s biceps. He quickly stopped as Agron sat up and looked at him. Agron searched Nasir’s face and apparently he found what he sought, he leaned in and softly pressed his lips to Nasir’s, earning a gasp from the other. Agron cupped Nasir’s cheek and smiled at him.

“Anything to keep you safe.” He answered in equal voice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agron and Nasir are getting to know each other better, while life at the House of Batiatus continues.  
> Agron's jealous, Nasir worried... and they're cute together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third chapter posted in a few days, yay! Fourth one will hopefully also follow swiftly :). I hope you like this one.

Nasir, careful of Agron’s wounds, insisted the gladatior would stay. 

“I will find another place to rest.” 

Agron put hand on Nasir’s arm and pulled him back. Only when Nasir settled against Agron’s chest and put his head down, was the gladiator satisfied. “Now rest, the feast is tomorrow and you must find duty.” Agron muttered.

“And then to see you to the arena.” Nasir sighed, knowing that Agron would be one to fight amongst the other gladiators. Although bested by Crixus and Spartacus as they were champions, Agron was an excellent fighter and Quintus Batiatus knew such things. 

“Perhaps not, I am still very wounded.” Agron lightly joked as he pulled Nasir even closer. “I will fight to return, Nasir.” He said as he pressed a kiss to Nasir’s shoulder and folding his hands across Nasir’s stomach, holding him close.   
They slumbered together until Duro jabbed his brother in the side, earning a grunt. 

“Agron, get up. Training is upon us again and you do not wish another punishment.” Duro said urgently before jabbing his brother again. Agron woke and looked at a still sleeping Nasir. With fleeting touch he followed his brother to the practice grounds.  
Nasir woke only a little after, fading dreams vivid in his mind. When he did not find Agron by his side, he believed it to be a dream, nothing more, and set to tasks at the villa.

Quintus would choose his gladiators for the next fight in the arena today and Nasir was to accompany him on the balcony. He stood a pace behind and to the right of his master, looking intently at the men on the ground before him. Doctore flicked his whip and the echoes of their voices sounded through bright blue sky.

“Dominus!”

“You are all my gladiators!” Quintus began as he raised his hand. “Honour will be bestowed upon this House!”  
He called out a few names who would fight in the lower rounds of the tournament. “Agron, you will have your first fight in the arena! Spartacus, primus!”

Nasir watched as the names were called. They all had practiced before this announcement and all seemed tired, but Agron appeared in pain from his wounds. Not showing much of it, he stood in line with his brothers, a defiant light flickering in his eyes. 

“Doctore, I would have words.” Quintus said to Oenomaus, who nodded and gave the command to finish food quickly and train further. Quintus and Lucretia went back inside, Nasir following his Dominus to his talk with Oenomaus.

“Doctore, you have a week. Prepare them well, I would see only the blood of the enemy on the sands.” Quintus said in a serious tone to Oenomaus.   
“The Germans are not ready, Dominus. Agron perhaps, but Duro is not. Spartacus in primus is…” Oenomaus was cut off by Quintus’ words.

“I wish to see them prepared for battle in the arena.” Quintus said as he dismissed his Doctore. Oenomaus nodded and returned to the ludus.

In the evening Spartacus and Agron were quietly speaking amongst each other. Agron wished to protect Duro from harm, while Spartacus insisted Duro should fight his own battles. It got the German angry, but he did not move against Spartacus, kept in too high regard. Thoughts to the arena, Agron sat outside alone when Nasir returned back to the ludus after his duties in the villa. He quietly approached Agron.

“You are the Dominus’ favourite now?” Agron asked, somehow knowing it was Nasir behind him. He had clearly seen him on the balcony that morning.

“I am but his houseslave.” Nasir answered, wondering at Agron’s jealousy. He stepped around Agron’s body and went to sit opposite of him. “Dominus does not require more from me, Agron.” He laid his hand on Agron’s, but the gladiator pulled his back.

“I would see jealousy removed from your gaze. It serves to nothing.” Nasir quietly mumbled, not looking Agron in the eyes in fear of what he might actually see there. “Set mind to purpose, Agron. I would not wish to see you fall in the arena.”

Only then strong fingers returned to caress his arm and Nasir looked up to find Agron looking at him with with want and gentleness. He had not seen the German look this way at any other and it warmed his heart.

“Kind words to a jealous man.” Agron smiled as he moved to stand. “Do not trouble mind. Doctore will see to our training and we will see our enemies to the afterlife. Are you to go to the arena with Dominus?”

Nasir lightly nodded. “Although I do not wish to see you on the sands.” He stood as well and went closer to Agron, not sure what he was going to do. Agron made it easy for him as he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around the Syrian.

“Then close eyes until you hear my victorious cry.” Agron whispered into Nasir’s ear softly. The words made Nasir shudder in response and he lifted his head to meet Agron’s lips in a deep kiss. Nasir was the one to break the kiss, taking hold of Agron’s arm.

“I would not have us on display. Come.” 

Dragging Agron along they were again together in the small room Nasir called his own. He did not know if Agron would prefer to stay with his brothers in the main room of the ludus or not, but he had not protested. It was only when Nasir, without thought, touched Agron’s back that he hissed lightly.

“You are still in pain.” Nasir said disapprovingly.

“Mere scratches.” Agron dismissed the hurtful whipping, but Nasir would have none of it, knowing well that he had been the cause of such injury.

“Scratches need healing, so you would have advantage in the arena.” Nasir said as he sought for the ointment he had gotten from Medicus the night before.  
“You are Medicus now?” Agron laughed as he saw Nasir return with the ointment and a bowl of water. “I would spend nights otherwise occupied.”   
Against his own words Agron staid still on the ground while Nasir washed the wounds on his back with water and then applied the ointment. It was hurtful, but bearable. He had worse wounds in the arena and those too had healed.

“That you came to this wounds because of me.” Nasir sighed softly as he set everything away. “Why not voice the reason of your absence? They could have punished me instead.” 

Agron tugged at Nasirs wrist so they sat together on the ground. “I would not have your beautiful skin marred by such scars. I already bare many, a few more won’t make a difference. It is but guilt without reason, Nasir. Free yourself from it.” 

“Beyond guilt there is worry.” Nasir softly smiled.

“Listen then.” Agron moved closer and laid both his hands on Nasir’s shoulders, looking about that no man could see them.

“Spartacus talks about rebellion. To slay everyone at the House of Batiatus and flee from here. He wishes to see slaves freed from shackles.”

“He speaks madness.” Nasir gasped but he stayed in Agrons’s strong grasp. “Strike these thoughts from mind, Agron, lest your head be taken for it.”

“Is freedom such an idle thought for you then? Would you not claim it if you had opportunity?”

Agron still remembered the taste of freedom. He had been with his family, in his own village, until he reached adulthood. His brother and he had been seized trying to defend that very same village. Agron knew what he could return to. Nasir did not.

“I fear it is. I have never known freedom.” Nasir quietly said. “I was but a child when torn from home and family. I have known this life longer than any other. It would be quite the task, even if freedom is gained.”

Even while speaking the words, they sounded weak to Nasir’s own ears. He could not help it, he had never known another life. It was Agron who chased these black thoughts away by a mere touch.

“Nasir?” Agron quietly inquired.

“You ought to go back and rest. Much is required of you if you are to fight in the arena next week.” Nasir just replied as he stood from the bedroll and expected Agron to do the same. The gladiator had thought they would have at least spent the night together, but there was something on Nasir’s mind that he could not follow.

“Words are truly spoken, although I would have more rest with you by my side.” Agron ventured and gave Nasir a small smile.

“And those words are completely false.” Nasir grinned in return. “Go, see to your rest.” 

Agron stood, brushed a hand over Nasir’s shoulder and was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agron goes to fight in the arena, Nasir stands behind his Dominus and watches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and the comments, it means a lot!

In the week prior to the fights in the arena, Nasir didn’t have a spare moment to himself. His Dominus had gone to market, but no good slaves were to be found. In the tavern he frequented he left Nasir outside, where he could listen in to gossip amongst other slaves. At the villa Nasir was there when his Dominus entertained honourable guests, giving out water and wine, providing them with food and shelter if they wished to stay.

As the day came nearer, Nasir’s thoughts darkened again, as his heart. He knew that he could not save Agron from the arena and even doubted that the German would want to be saved. Although Agron had never proclaimed himself a gladiator like Crixus who always said that he would fight for honour and glory, Nasir was certain he felt the same way. Gladiators were honoured by the public and respected by their Dominus.

“Tiberius! Time is pressing, we leave for the arena!” 

Nasir scrambled to get everything he needed for the arena. Wine was always present, as was the necessary food. The days at the arena were long and tiresome for the women of the company, and the fights where the gladiators were not of the House of Batiatus were boring to Quintus.

The gladiators who were to fight had gone already. It troubled Nasir that he had not had the chance to say goodbye to Agron or Spartacus, but his eyes would be upon them in the arena and he would pray to the gods for their safe return to the ludus. 

Once at the arena Nasir stood beside his Dominus, jug of wine ready in hand lest cup be empty. Quintus had already gotten some jealous looks that Nasir was his personal slave now. The lanista was now kind to the gift Marcus had bestowed upon him. Although he did not treat Nasir badly, Nasir wanted nothing more than to be rid of the treacherous man.

“Citizens of Capua!” The magistrate had pulled himself upright and addressed the crowd. After the hunt and the wild animals now was finally the time for the gladiators. The crowd went wild as the entire row of gladiators made their way into the arena. Nasir strained his eyes to see if he could spot Agron between them. Only few of the gladiators wore helmets and at the moment of the greeting they held them under their left arm.

Agron was the second man to go into the arena as the first fight was his. He wore only light leather shoulder armour over his left shoulder and a plate over his left leg. In his right hand he held the gladius. Concentration and strength came from him. Spartacus was nowhere to be seen, his announcing would be left for the primus. As all men held their sword or other weapon up for greeting, the magistrate held up his right hand and they could leave for the bowels of the arena again.

“For the first fight, I give you Agron, murmillo, from the House of Batiatus.” The magistrate turned to the lanista for a moment, who held up his hand in greeting to the crowd. “And Lucius, murmillo, from the House of Septus.”

Fighters came into the arena under great cheer. Agron, as this was his first fight, seemed anxious and nervous. Nasir didn’t want to look at the fight but found himself enthralled with how the German stood upon the sands. He looked every inch the god.

“Begin!” Shouted the magistrate.  
For a minute both gladiators circled each other. Agron had always gone head first into a fight but Oenomaus had learned him to wait the opponent out. And so he tried his own patience as the other murmillo did not waver. Suddenly, the opponent lashed out.  
Agron quickly blocked the blow and dealt one of his own, no damage was done on either side. Agron took a step forward, lounging for the other’s legs and meeting sand instead.

The gladiator wanted to make quick work of this fight. He gave Agron a slash across the back with the tip of the gladius, earning a hiss and a lunge at his chest. Agron dealt blow after blow, hoping to break through the other’s defences. The slash on his back was burning and soon his hand was absent his sword.

Nasir had closed his eyes at that point, not being able to bear what was going to follow next. Without sword, Agron was no match for the other gladiator. But time and time again he managed to duck away from the sword and with a quick roll through the sand he picked up his own sword again, just as the gladiator moved to strike. Trusting his sword upright, he felt the steel going through flesh and bone, resting deeply within the gladiator’s chest.

The crowd roared, the gladiator fell back, Agron’s blade bathed in blood. He could scarcely believe it himself, but he had won. Holding up his sword to the heavens he let out a victorious cry and then briefly settled his eyes upon the pulvinus. Nasir had just opened his eyes again and looked straight back. With a broad grin on his face and cheers of “Agron!” in the crowd, the German went back below the arena.

“Your German is a madman.” The magistrate approved of Agron’s fighting to Quintus, who gave a loud laugh. 

“Imagine what he could do next.” Quintus clapped the other on the shoulder, knowing that the best was yet to come. His champion Spartacus would soon stand on the same sands and be victiours, he was sure. Nasir was relieved that Agron had made it through, but he had also seen the wounds on Agron’s body. How much injury could a man’s body take? 

The rest of the afternoon went by Nasir in a haze. He was quick to follow orders from his Dominus and kept an eye on the fighting Spartacus, who quite easily bested the best man of another House. Nasir felt pride as the House of Batiatus had proved to be among the strongest at the arena. He wondered how Agron faired with his injuries and if he needed assistance.   
Then fear struck Nasir. What if his gladiator was mortally wounded?

Once the Dominus left his place beneath the pulvinus Nasir quickly followed. They were to retreat to the villa. Nasir did not leave his Dominus until late in the evening, when Quintus rested together with Lucreatia, a cup of wine in hand.

“Go down to the celebrations in the ludus, Tiberius. Spartacus requested wine and whores for everyone and so I did. Return to duty tomorrow.”

“Gratitude, Dominus.” Tiberius bowed and hurried towards the ludus, where celebration was in full force. Drunken men leaned against the wall, where in dark secluded places moans could be heard. Agron was nowhere to be seen. Spartacus, who was talking to one of the others, noticed Nasir and stood, beckoning him closer.

“Agron is with Medicus. It seems it is difficult to stop the bleeding of his wound.”  
Nasir nodded and went on to Medicus, where he found Agron sound asleep on one of the slabs. For a moment he let a soft smile grace his lips and went closer to Agron.

“It is a healing sleep. His wound hurt too much, although the stubborn mule did not even budge when I cleaned it.” Medicus said. “I hope bleeding will cease. Wine waits for me now.” 

With a clap on the shoulder Medicus left Nasir alone with the sleeping gladiator. For Nasir this was a welcome change to have no duties for a whole evening. With a glance to Agron he quickly left, only to return with some wine and two cups he had snatched from the main room. Nobody had seen him take them and he was glad for it. Perhaps they would be left alone for the whole evening.  
With Agron asleep, Nasir had time to look over the gladiator more carefully. With light fingertips Nasir caressed the man’s upperarm closest to him and then over his back, carefully avoiding the wound. Agron stirred just a little.

“Apologies. I should let you sleep.” Nasir suddenly felt guilty.

“Not needed, neither the apologies nor the sleep.” Agron’s hand wrapped around Nasir’s wrist, holding him in place before the gladiator realised what he was doing at Nasir’s expression. “I do not know my strength. I merely wish for you to stay but a while longer.”

Nasir pulled up one of the low benches and sat near Agron’s head so that they could see each other. He resumed his slow caress of Agron’s shoulders.

“You would see me asleep again?” Agron murmured softly.

Nasir pressed a kiss to Agron’s knuckles. “Since duty does not call tonight, I would wish for you to be awake in my arms.”   
Agron was becoming more and more interested and smiled back at Nasir. He pressed himself up on his hands and sat up with a slight groan escaping his lips. Immediately Nasir was by his side to support Agron, but he waves him away.

“No need.” Agron quietly said, although Nasir saw how difficult it was for Agron to maintain this pose when he slid of the stone slab. 

“Agron…” Nasir started, but Agron placed his fingers over Nasir’s lips and shook his head. 

“Not tonight, little man. No more duty, pain, fear…” Agron trailed off as he replaced his fingers by his lips and embraced Nasir. Their kiss lasted until Nasir broke away and despite Agron’s efforts, supported his weight.  
Nasir walked them to his small room and carefully set Agron down, before sitting next to him and embracing the larger man.

“Together in solitude.”

“Hmm.” Was all Agron responded as he made himself comfortable and slowly bent to lay his head on Nasir’s shoulder. Then he turned so that he could kiss Nasir’s skin. “I will go into the arena each day if it means I will come back to this.” Agron whispered.

Nasir turned towards Agron, cupping the man’s face and planting a kiss on his lips before crawling into his lap. Agron grinned at the courage of his Syrian and embraced him tightly before letting his hands explore.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agron and Duro are to fight in the arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was very hard to write... I hope you guys enjoy.  
> Thank you again for the kudos and comments, they are very much appreciated!

A whole month the gladiators did nothing but eat, sleep and train. Capua was asleep in the heat of the summer and the House of Batiatus was all but silent. Quintus did not like it one bit and sought out others to secure his place in the upcoming games who would be held for praetor Glaber, who would be present with his wife Ilythia.

Agron had healed well and spent all the time he could with Nasir. And although Nasir still had his doubts about his love for the gladiator, he would wish him all the best when the other would go into the arena once more. Everyone felt it, it was upon them again. Men would be challenged to go to the arena, not all would come back. Quintus had already called Doctore to consult about who to choose.   
Quintus was so busy with the discussing the schedule of the fights, that he left the announcement to Oenomaus. Within the pause at the training, he quickly told them what was the purpose.

“Two fights for our House. Agron, Duro, you will fight right before the primus. Dominus requested especially you, Agron. Spartacus, Crixus, you will fight together in primus against… Theokeles.”

The name astounded everyone. Theokeles was a legend. Soon Agron and Duro were forgotten and all attention went to Spartacus and Crixus, and how they would be prepared to fight someone who was more monster than man.   
“And what are we? Mere bait for the public.” Agron growled at the lack of attention, but he would show them all. They were not going to forget the German that easily.

Late at night, when Nasir was no longer required in the presence of Dominus, Agron told about how he was choosen for the arena. Nasir did not like it, but he didn’t not have a choice, just like Agron didn’t.

“Fight, and see victory be in your hands.” Nasir simply said and Agron smiled at him for his kind words. 

“And Duro?” Nasir asked then ,knowing how much Agron cared for his little brother.

“Duro fares well. I will look out for him if I can ,but he has improved.” Agron quietly responded, but in his eyes the fear of loosing his brother was ever present. Nasir kissed the man and laid down, pulling the gladiator with him to the bedroll.

“I love you, Agron.” He whispered and felt the German stiffen for a moment. Hands pulled at Nasir to turn around and he could not help but smile at the face before him. Agron was absolutely stunning when he smiled for only one person in the room. He did not say the words, but his embrace told enough. As each night, they fell asleep together.

Early in the morning both gladiators and servants woke up the next day. Glaber would be in the arena that afternoon and at the villa at night. 

Nasir looked down upon his gladiator and kissed him on the lips, waking Agron up. Agron quickly rose as he was to get ready for the arena, embraced Nasir tightly and left. In the doorway he turned around.

“Until tonight then?” He asked with a smile.  
Nasir nodded, not trusting his voice to speak.

Nasir was running from one place to the other, often accompanied by his Dominus, who did not know where to turn first, which made him anxious.

“Wine, Tiberius.” He spoke not seldom as they chased yet another from the Senate or one important in Capua to entertain. It was not until the gladiators had gone to the arena that Quintus showed a little approval.   
“Pray to the gods these games go well for us, Tiberius, and we will leave this wretched town behind us.”

“Yes, Dominus.” Tiberius answered while gathering everything according to his master’s wishes. They were set to go to the arena, where the games had already started. Quintus was obliged to sit through the whole thing together with Lucretia at his side. With some luck Glaber would arrive too, his wife Ilythia was already present, that serpent.

“Agron and Duro are to fight in one of the first rounds, we must be quick. See to the Domina and then we leave, Tiberius.” 

“Yes, Dominus.” Tiberius answered again before hurrying towards the rooms of the Domina. Seeing that her slaves had already prepared her robes, Tiberius went back to his master, informed him and waited for their departure. 

In the mean time Agron and Duro sat together with Crixus and Spartacus in the bowels of the arena, watching how wild animals devoured slaves who were convicted of various crimes. 

“The fight will soon be upon us, brother.” Duro mumbled, he was very nervous for his first fight. Agron, for some reason, was very calm and tried to transfer his mood to his brother. Spartacus and Crixus were not speaking to each other and probably would end up fighting this Theokeles each on their own. Agron just hoped they would not fall, even though that fucking Gaul did nothing to deserve it.

“Calm yourself, brother, and see the fight won.” Agron laid a hand on Duro’s shoulder and patted it repeatedly. Crixus huffed.

“Calm alone will not win the battle, pup.” Crixus grumbled under his breath. Agron was just about to tell him off when guards came to collect him and Duro.

“Set mind to purpose, brother.” Agron whispered as they waited for the gate to the arena to open. The crowd was cheering, full of bloodthirst after the poor slaves who were fed to the animals. Both put their helmets on, Duro immediately having difficulties to breathe through the tiny holes in the mask.

They only faintly heard what their Dominus was telling about the both of them but it was probably a long tale about how the Germans had always fought the Romans and were eventually conquered. Fuck those Roman shits, Agron thought but he heeded himself to say it. They stepped through the gate and onto the hot sands of the arena. The crowd went mad.

All four gladiators greeted and waited for the sign to begin. Agron had only given a glance to Nasir who stood behind their Dominus and gave a faint smile of recognition. It was then Agron decided that he would not die that day, nor any other. Not as long Nasir waited for his return.

“Begin!”

From the moment the word had been said, Agron took his battle stance. Normally he would glance at Duro beside him, but he remembered Spartacus’ words that he would have to learn to fight on his own. The man before him was larger than him. Fuck. And he had a net and trident… Agron whispered a few rapid curses.   
His opponent wanted to make quick work of him. The net flew in the sky and Agron could barely avoid it. How could he get closer without running into that trident?   
Agron roared as the other attacked, trying to slap the trident away with his hand and simultaneously raising his gladius to slice at the man’s side. He succeeded, but the gladiator did not budge.

The next moment Agron was sent flying over the sands and landed flat on his back, the air knocked out of him. He was barely quick enough to roll over and avoid the trident in his gut. Agron stood and raised his hands to defend himself but was too slow and got an uppercut to his jaw. He spat blood and grinned, this was starting to be a good fight. The helmet went off and he could finally see everything surrounding him. Duro was in trouble!

It took him not more than a minute to get rid off his opponent now. He threw the net who was supposed to be used by the other over the gladiator. In search of his gladius, he knocked the other down on the ground. He could not find his gladius and reached for the trident, stabbing the man in the chest.

He turned around, just as Duro was knocked to the ground. He ran towards the both of them, his victim forgotten behind him. The roar of the crowd couldn’t stop him and he flew at the other gladiator, pulling him off Duro, giving his brother the opportunity to slash his gladius across the other’s throat.   
Agron stood, grinning at their victory, and clapped his brother on the shoulder. The crowd cheered for the both of them and they raised their hands. Suddenly something changed, the crowd hushed and Duro was the first to notice it. He pushed Agron out of the way, the trident burying itself deep in Duro’s chest.

“Duro!” Agron shouted before turning back to the huge gladiator before him. In all of his rage Agron did not think, stormed ahead and jumped so that his feet landed against the gladiator’s chest, knocking him down and out. As the crowd shouted at Agron to kill the other, he raised his gladius but was stopped by the magistrate who held his thumb up.

“No!” Agron snarled, but he threw the sword down and went back to his brother. The wound was worse than he imagined. Duro was already coughing up blood.   
“I saved you this time, brother.” Duro whispered softly before the light softened in his eyes. 

Agron saw red. He cried out his sorrow to the sky.

Nasir saw it all and his heart cried together with his lover. Quintus was just agitated he had not won the entire fight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agron tries to cope with his brother's death, Nasir wants to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another heavy chapter, I hope you guys like it.

Nasir had to stand behind his Dominus for the primus as well. He had to watch how Crixus was severely wounded and how Spartacus was almost defeated himself. But somehow he did it. Spartacus, slayer of Theokeles, the Bringer of Rain… Spartacus would become legend.   
Although it lightened Nasir’s heart that both Spartacus and Crixus left the arena alive, he wanted to get back to the ludus to comfort Agron. He had not seen the man yet and he feared for his sanity.   
He was right to do so.

“Tiberius, bring Agron and Sp… no, only Agron. Bring him to me.” Dominus demanded and Nasir nodded, quickly making his way down the ludus. When he could not find Agron anywhere, he began to fear the worst. Would Agron take his own life when his brother had already gone to the afterlife?

Finallly walking outside, he saw Oenomaus standing there, watching Agron. The gladiator had picked up a wooden sword and attacked the practice wooden beam with it with a force which should have broken the thing in two. His wounds had not been tended to, his hands were bleeding from wooden splinters of the sword which he wielded. At this distance Nasir could not see his eyes.

“How long has he been doing this?” Nasir asked Oenomaus, and the man sighed deeply.

“More than two hours, he will not be stopped.” 

“Dominus wants him.” Nasir muttered as he stepped forward to where Agron was still fighting his imaginary enemies. Watching from up close, Nasir became a little frightened of the man standing before him.

“Agron?” He asked softly, but the German did not respond. Gently he laid a hand on the man’s back and had to duck when the sword came flashing at him instead. Standing upright again Nasir looked into Agron’s eyes and found… nothing. They were empty.

“Agron, Dominus asks for you. We must get you cleaned up.” Nasir tried and to his amazement Agron just nodded, dropped the sword in the sand and followed him to the baths. Nasir waited for Agron to get out again and dress, trying not to look at the German while he bathed, but his heart went out to him. He wanted to give words of comfort, but knew there would be none. Agron had not said one word to him.

When Agron was ready, he walked in front of him to the rooms of the Dominus, who was waiting for the gladiator. Quintus Batiatus smiled at the sight of Agron and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“What spectacle you made of the fight, Agron. Good man!”

Agron only nodded.

“How do you fare after your brother? Is there… something to assist you with?” 

Normally Quintus would not ask this, but since Agron could well be the replacement of Crixus, he would put in a little effort. He had already given the order to take Duro’s body to the ludus so that he could be prepared for burial.   
“Grant me another fight, Dominus.” Agron requested.

Quintus had not seen this coming. He thought Agron would chose drink to forget his grief, but yet he wanted to go back into the arena. Quintus would ask no less of his gladiators, but he was surprised to find one so eager.

“You will fight again, Agron. Good gladiators like you will not be cast aside.” Quintus answered and Agron nodded again.

“The man I fought before, I would have him in the arena.” Agron made his other request and Quintus understood. He wanted vengeance for his brother, of course.

“I will see what I can arrange, but it will not be your first fight in the arena. The man is below your considerable skill now, Agron, and you must be patient. For now, see to your brother, give him a decent farewell. If not he, than you deserve it.” 

Agron’s fists clenched at those last words, but he did not move.   
“Gratitude, Dominus.” He said as he turned around, leaving for the ludus. He had not looked over once to Nasir.

Duro’s funeral was the next day. Agron lit the fire and watched how the body of his brother burned. The gladiators had stood around him and greeted Duro as one of their own. Afterwards Agron had gone to his own cell, one which had been granted to him by Quintus. It was not the larger one together with his brother, but it was on the other side of the practice grounds, next to Spartacus’. Crixus was warned, another champion was on the rise.

Nasir had been allowed to attend to the funeral as Quintus and Lucretia would be watching themselves from the balcony. Nasir, as always, stood behind his Dominus. He returned to the ludus at night and walked to his own cell, when he saw a small flame flickering at the open door of Agron’s cell. He hesitated for a moment, but then moved towards his own cell again, Agron had no need of him.

“Nasir.”

The mention of his name stopped Nasir and made him turn around towards the open door. He could not see Agron, but apparently the German had seen him. Quietly he moved towards the door and leaned against the wall, watching Agron who seemed lost in thought, looking at his hands. Blood leaked from his fingertips, his head shone slightly red in the flame of the candle.

“Apologies for… everything.” Agron began, still not looking at Nasir. 

“Agron, what have you done?” Nasir whispered as he came closer by, noticing some of the dreads on the ground.

“They would not give me a knife.” Agron replied. He had been pulling them out with his hands, leaving bald spots on his skull. Nasir carefully lifted his hands and saw they were bloodied from fist meeting solid wall. Nasir shook his head, he knew that he should have come earlier.

 

It was then Agron looked up at Nasir and Nasir could see him again. Not the man who had been fighting ghosts, but Agron. His green eyes glittered with unshed tears and so much pain resided in them. 

“The hurt is too great, Nasir.” Agron whispered and Nasir took two steps forward, sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around Agron’s waist. He did not say a word, but it was not necessary. Agron’s hands hesitantly came up and Nasir felt Agron’s embrace, very tight as if to keep him from breathing.

“I could have saved him. That man should have been dead. I failed Duro.” Agron whispered in Nasir’s hair, his guilt obvious in his words. Nasir held onto Agron and shook his head.

“Guilt is a foul beast, Agron. Rid yourself from it. Duro wanted you to live, he loved his brother.” Nasir said as he gently held Agron’s chin, forcing the German to look at him. “You must live for the both of you now.”

“I can not.” Agron now grumbled, his anger getting the better of him, frustration growing through his grief. “I merely want vengeance on the gladiator who killed him.”

“And then?” Nasir asked. “Do you forget what you have told me? What Spartacus holds as purpose?”

“You did not want me to talk of it.” Agron answered.

“Perhaps it is now time to do more than talk. Spartacus has giving me opportunity to ask him everything. I believe it possible, Agron. To be free.”

Agron just looked at Nasir, not believing what he heard. “Crixus will never be part of this. And if he isn’t, the Gauls will not fight for the cause. It will be over before it began.” Agron clasped both hands behind Nasir’s neck, drawing him in close. “Be careful to whom you speak of this. I wouldn’t…”

Agron didn’t finish the sentence, but Nasir understood. He could not loose Nasir as well. The man had not been broken yet, but he was not far from it. The grief fresh in mind and heart, Nasir feared for what Agron might do if left alone. Igniting the fire again for Spartacus’ cause was the only thing he could do.

“Agreed.” Agron finally said with a nod and Nasir let go of him, turning to stand. 

“Stay.” 

Agron didn’t realise how much of a command that word was.

“Why?” Nasir asked firmly as he crossed his arms over his chest. Agron gritted his teeth and stood, towering over Nasir and laying his hands on Nasir’s shoulders, making him look up.  
Agron couldn’t form the words, but they were not needed. They held on to each other and with one hand Agron pulled the curtain before the doorway.

“Tomorrow I will ask they remove your dreads, Agron.” Nasir whispered as they lay together on the makeshift bed. Agron nodded shortly, embracing Nasir tightly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nasir and Agron prepare for the fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is coming to a close, the final (or first) battle is coming up for Agron and Nasir.  
> I'm so loving writing this story and I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy the writing.  
> Thank you once again for the kudos and comment, I very much appreciate all!

Now that they had spoken of the rebellion, of striking against their Dominus, the idea had formed in their minds and it would not let go. Spartacus was always trying to get Crixus and the Gauls on his side, but as Crixus would have none of it, none of the Gauls would follow Spartacus.  
Agron would go where Spartacus went, as long as he had Romans to kill. Bloodshed in vengeance of his brother, although it would never be enough.   
As they stood in line for the greeting of their Dominus that morning, Spartacus nodded to Agron for a moment. This announcement would be the beginning, with or without the Gauls.

Quintus Batiatus walked on the balcony dressed in his finest robes, his wife Lucretia stood beside him with a murdering look upon her face, directed at Crixus. It was no secret that she took the gladiator to her bed when her husband was not at home, but lately one of the servants had caught Crixus’ eye and he did not perform up to standard. Lucretia blamed him. Nasir stood two steps behind his Dominus, together with Naevia who stood beside her Domina. 

“Gladiators! Only one more week until the next games! I wish to see you all fighting for the House of Batiatus! Doctore, prepare them well, eight of them will fight.” 

The men all shouted “Dominus!” together. Nasir, who could always listen to the plans of his Dominus, had told Spartacus that there would be a grand feast in honour of Glaber after the games, but first there would be one for his wife, smaller, but the guests would be just as honoured.

“It is then we must strike.” Spartacus had told Agron and Nasir at night, before they turned to their beds. “After the games the gladiators will be too tired, some of us will have fallen. We can not risk it.” 

“Crixus?” Agron asked shortly. Not much was left of the humorous German, who was quick to laugh and to swear and who was liked by most of the men, except the Gauls. He now lived to fight. His edges only softened when looking at Nasir and in the scarce moments they could be together, Agron let the mask which hid his grief and emotions, slide.

“He will help us.” Spartacus answered. 

They heard Oenomaus come and quickly broke apart. Spartacus went to his own cell and Agron followed towards the other next to it. In the doorway he looked back and saw Nasir standing there.  
The German stood and slowly extended his arm, waiting for Nasir to come to him. It took him more than a minute, but Nasir moved over the practicing ground and took Agron’s hand.   
Agron pulled him through the doorway and let the blanket fall, before turning towards his Syrian.

“I feared you would not come.”

“I feared you would not want me to.” Nasir answered with a slight smile.

Nasir closed his eyes as Agron’s calloused fingertips gently caressed his face, mapping the skin as to remember it forever. They touched his nose, tips of his ears, and went on to his lips. Once there, fingertips were replaced by soft lips touching his.

“Even at my worst, I will want you by my side.” Agron whispered into Nasir’s ear, making him shiver. Soft kisses followed a trail from Nasir’s ear to his mouth, where his lips were captured in a long deep kiss. It was only then his own hands, which were braced against Agron’s chest, started to explore as well.

Agron gasped against his lips as Nasir raked his nails across Agron’s side. They had not been this intimate in a while, not since Duro’s death. Nasir clung to the German, his arms not letting go of Agron as the other moved and lifted him in strong arms, carrying them to the bed. 

They lay together on the bedroll, Nasir scrambling up so that they were face to face. He took a moment to just look at Agron. It was his turn to caress the stubble on Agron’s cheek, the dimples who had been always so prominently present.

“I would wish to see you smile more.” Nasir whispered as he kissed Agron’s cheeks and his forehead. 

“There has not been much reason to smile. But there will be, tomorrow, once we are free.” And there it was, the quick easy smile Nasir had come to love so much, albeit a rather sad one.   
He kissed those lips swiftly, lost in the feeling of Agron’s skin. Agron gasped at the lightest touch, gripping the thin mattress tightly as he tried not to think and only to feel. Nasir’s skills as a body slave considerably helped in these matters.

“Fuck!” Agron groaned when Nasir dropped his robes to the ground and made quick work of Agron’s loincloth. Nasir grinded into Agron, making him moan even louder and Nasir loved the sound of Agron coming apart.   
Nasir kissed Agron’s chest and moved lower, licking at Agron’s cock which earned him a quiet gasp of anticipation. Nasir took him in his mouth and it did not take long before Agron could take no more and gave himself over.   
Agron grasped Nasir’s arms and dragged him up so that he could kiss him thoroughly, lowering his hand to Nasir’s length, stroking him firmly. Nasir let out a soft cry as he came, Agron smiling as he watched.

They embraced and laid together on the bedroll.  
In soft voice they spoke about what was to come, what Spartacus had told them about. His ideas were far greater than just to slay Batiatus and the nobles of Capua to gain freedom. His wish was to unchain a rebellion, to see every slave freed. 

“Where will you stand, when… when it starts?” Agron asked Nasir, but the slave shrugged, he had no idea.

“Near Dominus.” Nasir stated as he shuddered, suddenly very aware of the faith the man who he had served would meet.

Agron held Nasir close, he wanted to protect his lover from all the evil in the world, but knew that he had come far too late. They would see this through together.

“I will find you.” Agron promised.

Nasir looked up at Agron and smiled sadly. “Do not make promises you can not keep. If I am to go to the afterlife, so be it. And don’t you dare to come find me there, because I will send you back to Spartacus.”   
Tears shimmered in Agron’s eyes, memory of his brother fresh upon his mind and heart. Quickly he wiped them away, a hard glint replacing the soft and gentle expression his face usually held when he was with Nasir.

“I will find you, Nasir. And if one dares to stand between us, they will feel the sharpness of my blade.” Agron hissed through his teeth, his anger getting the better of him. Nasir brushed Agron’s shoulders as they both sat up and laid his hands upon his lover’s cheeks.

“You would slay all, just to keep me from harm, would you not?” Nasir asked softly, more feeling than seeing Agron nod.

“Tomorrow I might… I might not be the same.” Agron tried to explain how he could change when he was in the arena or required to fight. The bloodlust which came over him, even more so after Duro, would have him in its grip so tight, that he might not even recognise friend from foe.

Nasir kissed Agron softly and wrapped his arms around the gladiator.

“You said you would find me. I will find you again too, Agron. However deep I must search for you, you will come back to this world, I promise. Spartacus asks too much of you, that you would be one of the first to strike in this… this rebellion. He should know what it does to you.”

“Too late.” Agron mumbled softly in Nasir’s hair. “Tomorrow this will end, one way or the other.”

“Then let us sleep so that we may fight well tomorrow.” Nasir laid down, tugging Agron with him and they lay together, watching each other in the near darkness of the small room. It was Agron who closed his eyes first, pulled Nasir closer and fell asleep.

It took the Syrian more hours to find his own sleep, but looking at his beloved Agron had helped settle his mind. He knew that Agron would pull him from the afterlife if he could, but if he was to fall tomorrow, he had loved and for some reason, that was enough.

As night fell, the nightmares came to Agron again. It was the same over and over again, he watched Duro fall in the arena and he cried, his hand and feet were bound to the sands and however he fought, he could not reach his brother in time.

Right before Agron woke, the nightmare became subtly different. The German stood upon the sands of the arena, looking at his brother after he had slain his own opponent and he knew that he could do nothing to aid him.

This time Duro turned to him, the gladiator beside him forgotten, the sword the man was holding stuck mid-air. Duro smiled at Agron and looked like one of the gods Agron had prayed to when they had been still at their tribe at the East of the Rhine.

“Duro.” Agron whispered softly as he wanted to come closer, but could not.

“Agron.” Duro said in about the same manner, with a smile on his face. “Brother, let me go. Avenge my death by killing those Roman shits and mourn me, but do not cling to me like a child to a mother. You’re a warrior from East of the Rhine, they hold no comparison to you. Fight, you fuck!”

Agron started awake, but to his own surprise he had a smile on his face.

“You fuck.” He muttered as he looked towards the ceiling. “Gratitude, brother.” He whispered as he laid down again, not wanting to disturb Nasir.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nasir and Agron fight for their freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big final! I hope you guys like it :). I had a lot of fun writing this story and I'm working on the next one.  
> Thank you very very much for the kudos and the comments, it's always nice when your work is appreciated.

The next day began very early for all. The preparations made for the feast of Glaber were never matched by any in Capua. The feast of his wife Illythia was even more grand because she had clearly expressed her wishes to Lucretia who would see it done because of what Glaber could do for the house of Batiatus.

Crixus and Spartacus were to fight each other and they would hold swords, not wooden toys. Spartacus felt some joy by the fact that it all went so well, but Crixus was still not on their side. All gladiators were tense and Agron had not come out of his cell for the entire day. He should have practiced with all of them, but Oenomaus had left him alone since he was not meant to fight that day.

Nasir had gone with his Dominus for the invitations of the feast and so was now in charge of the proper arrangements when people entered. He would not be with his Dominus for most of the evening and he was nervous that he would be in the wrong place at the wrong time. From the kitchen he had stolen a dagger which he had kept by his side.

The gladiators’ hands had all been chained. Agron knew that they would not risk them all gaining weapons, but he had put his trust in Spartacus. He hoped the Thracian would not fail them all and see them to their deaths with his rebellion. 

The practice ground had been cleaned thoroughly and they stood now in one row, staring straight in front of them, Oenomaus watching over them and if they would take one step, he would have their hides. 

All noble men and women stood upon the balcony as Crixus and Spartacus began their show. They had high expectations of both champions, but Spartacus would have none of it if Crixus would not help them.  
They stepped, opposite of each other, on the battle ground and received their swords while their chains were unbound from their wrists. Spartacus looked at Crixus, who was not about to bow down.

“Crixus!” Spartacus hissed between his teeth as the Gaul launched his first attack, only dodged by a mere few inches by Spartacus. He blocked the blow and dealt one of his own, only causing the Gaul to duck and plant his fist in Spartacus’ face.  
Spartacus wrestled Crixus’ sword from his hand and gave him a mighty push, sending him sprawling on his back.  
Since the crowd wanted a show, he stepped back although he had been told they should fight to the death. No more gladiator would die by the hands of Quintus Batiatus!  
It was then Crixus seemed to falter. He fell back and grasped at his shield which lay nearby. He blocked almost his entire body with it, but then Spartacus heard his name.

“Spartacus…”

Fingers tapped upon the shield and Spartacus understood the meaning. With a cry he ran towards the shield and leapt all the way to the balcony, striking a man down at the first blow, but it was not Quintus Batiatus. Men and women scattered across the balcony and Quintus stood right there, but a whip slung over Spartacus’ wrist. Spartacus looked back at Oenomaus. Just in that moment Crixus sliced the whip in two and Spartacus could jump over the balcony and into the fray of people. He dealt blows left and right.

Agron had watched the whole agonizing ordeal until spirits were lifted and Crixus finally made his decision. Agron stared at Donar, the both of them screamed at each other and ran forward towards the Roman soldiers who had been supervising the whole battle for when Glaber would arrive.

Agron pounded a man on the head and grabbed his sword. Slashing his way through to the house, his bonds were cracked and he quickly discarded them. The house was already in a bloody mess and he feared for Nasir. 

“Nasir!” He shouted it as hard as he could, but he saw none who resembled the Syrian. Spartacus had gone straight for Batiatus and loomed over him now, the other gladiators dispatched of the Roman soldiers. 

“Agron!” 

The German quickly looked from one side to the other, stabbing the Roman soldier in front of him in the neck. Finally he saw a wisp of dark hair near the back wall. When Agron arrived near the wall, he saw Nasir was in trouble. He had been pushed against the wall by two soldiers and managed to stab one with a dagger, but the other soldier had his hands wrapped around Nasir’s throat.

Agron growled and leapt at the man, sending him flying backwards. “You fuck!” He screamed at the soldier before slashing at his neck, a fountain of blood spurting forth. By the grin on Agron’s face one could tell he was feeling good. He quickly turned towards Nasir, who had slumped down the wall and was sitting now, gulping for breath, with a hand at his throat.

“Nasir…” Agron knelt beside him in all the turmoil and gripped Nasir’s chin gently, making him look up. “Are you hurt?” He asked in a worried voice.

“It’s… Agron… look out.” Nasir said in a near whisper, but it was enough. Agron turned quickly enough to have fist planted in the middle of his face which made his head spin, but he looked back and did the same to the soldier.

“Pathetic.” He spit the blood out of his mouth and quickly stabbed the man through the chest. He heard cries of victory and lifted his head. Spartacus stood in the middle of the villa and looked over his fellow gladiators. Some had fallen, but most were standing tall over the Romans who were sprawled across the floor.

Agron helped Nasir to his feet and looked him all over to see that he was not hurt. Finally Nasir pushed him off and gripped his arm, half dragging him towards Spartacus, who was trying to explain what this rebellion would be about. Nasir, not for the first time, felt how special this man truly was and what a leader could do if only he were to be followed. 

Agron had wrapped an arm around Nasir loosely, which Nasir was grateful for. They both put up their hands at Spartacus and cried out their victory. Many of the houseslaves were scared and had no idea what had been coming. Now they were to be free and save themselves, but Spartacus would have them with him, if they would want to.

 

It was only when Spartacus moved outside, telling the men and women that they should hurry, that Nasir realised this was it. He would be out of the safety of a life that he knew and into a rebellion which he knew nothing of. He could not wield a sword and thought that he would be of no worth to the gladiators who were all fierce warriors.

He walked together with Agron towards the gate and then stopped. It took Agron a few moments before he realised Nasir was not with him anymore and he looked back. 

“Nasir? What is it?” He asked, concerned.

“This… I have not done this before. I have always been a slave. I have no purpose with… with you and the gladiators.” Nasir said as he helplessly looked around.

Agron bent down so that he could look into Nasir’s eyes and laid a gentle hand to his cheek. “What purpose do you wish to have? Do you wish to fight? I will teach you. I will not give you opportunity to stay here, little man.”

“Do not call me little.” Nasir frowned and that actually made Agron grin.

“The fire in your eyes is still ever present. You will be a fierce warrior, Nasir. Come…” 

Nasir looked up to Agron and gritted his teeth, but stayed in place.

“How can I go with Spartacus, when my heart is left behind?” Agron now asked and all the pain, sadness and love he felt where clear on his face. Nasir swallowed and nodded.

“It will not be, you will have it always by your side.” He smiled.

Agron extended his hand again, like he had a few nights ago and now the distance was but little. The step Nasir had to take however was far greater than before. Nasir took a deep breath and quickly held onto Agron’s hand, before he took the steps needed away from the House of Batiatus.

“Don’t look back.” Agron whispered as he draped an arm across Nasir’s shoulders and they hurried towards the rest of the men.


End file.
